


Mac and Dennis' Soft Moments

by glennjaminhow



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Boyfriends, Boys Kissing, Codependency, Coffee, Cold Weather, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Fist Fights, Friends to Lovers, Huddling For Warmth, Jealousy, M/M, Manicures & Pedicures, Recreational Drug Use, Sick Character, Soft Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-15 05:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glennjaminhow/pseuds/glennjaminhow
Summary: Five soft moments between Mac and Dennis.





	1. One

It’s a quiet, peaceful Wednesday afternoon until, suddenly, it isn’t.

Dennis’ eyes rip away from the TV as the door creaks open. He’s the only one at the bar. Paranoia clings to him like a wet blanket, but then he laughs it off because he’s stoned, and the gang is off somewhere doing something he doesn’t give a shit about, and he just wants to keep lounging on the pool table. He’s got all he needs right here: Mac’s leather jacket for a pillow, an already rolled joint he stole from Mac’s nightstand, and Jackie Denardo’s breasts heaving beautifully on the five o’clock news.

And interruptions? He doesn’t like interruptions.

Dennis mutes the TV and glances toward the entrance of Paddy’s. He makes a move to stub out the joint when he notes it’s just Mac, huffing and puffing like he's ready to blow the bar down. Dennis returns his attention to the screen, ignoring his roommate shuffling around the bar too loudly and inhaling hit after hit until smoke bubbles up around him like his very own cloud.

His very own cloud. Weird.

It’d be weird as shit to be a cloud.

Dennis keeps watching Jackie Denardo’s bountiful breasts, smoking and smiling for no reason other than he’s high. He’s having one of those days where his emotions are fading ghosts. Feelings just aren’t coming to him, and he’s been throwing shit at the wall all day to see if it sticks, but nothing ever does. The gang’s scheme or whatever is probably interesting enough to keep his attention or for him to manipulate in some way, but it’s snowy and cold, and he’s delightfully, painfully numb. 

Well, he’s numb until Mac stands directly in front of the television.

“You aren’t even gonna ask me what happened?” Mac snaps. Okay, whoa, he’s way too amped up; Dennis shakes his head like he’s got whiplash. “And is that my joint? Dude, I was saving that for tonight!”

Dennis shrugs. “I can buy us more weed.”

“That’s not the point, bro! I don’t go through your shit! You shouldn’t go through mine.”

His eyebrows furrow. “You’re wearing my shirt right now.”

Mac glances down innocently, and Dennis chuckles when his face hardens; Mac crosses his arms over his chest in defense. “It’s too big for you! It’s made for someone with more mass, like me.”

“Not the point, bro,” Dennis repeats, inhaling another hit. “Why’re you so dusty?”

Mac rolls his eyes. “Fucking Charlie, bro.”

“Do I even wanna know?”

Mac shrugs. “Nah. Just some shit with bat traps. Can I have some of that, Den?” 

Dennis nods, passing him the joint after another quick huff.

“I’m, like, caked in dirt, dude. It sucks. My nails are disgusting.”

Mac sits down on the pool table near Dennis’ torso, turning and showing Dennis his grungy, black hands. He’s bleeding from a scrape near one of his knuckles. Dennis knows Mac is usually a super clean guy, and his hands, much like Dennis’, are always clean and pristine. 

Ha. Rhymes. 

“Go wash your hands, bro,” Dennis says, sitting up and getting to his feet; the room sways a little. “I’ll help fix your nails after that.”

“What?” Mac asks. “Like a manicure?”

Dennis shrugs. “If you wanna call it that. But those things are fucking gross, dude.”

This seems to be enough of an answer for his roommate because he wanders wordlessly into the bathroom. Dennis grabs his backpack from the office, pulling out his makeup bag and spotting his orange stick. His brain fuzzy and sleepy, he leans on the counter and waits for Mac to come out. He wonders how Mac’s hands are always so soft because he swears to God that he’s never even seen him put lotion or moisturizer a day in his life.

“Alright,” Mac sighs, splaying his hands out on the counter. “I tried.”

“They look a lot better. I’m gonna clean that scrape too.”

“Whatever, Den. Just make it fast, okay?”

Dennis nods and immediately starts to clean under Mac’s fingernails with the orange stick. He used to do this for Dee when they were kids because she was shit at it, much like she is at everything. Somehow, she’d end up bleeding more than cleaning, so Dennis took over and then, eventually, taught her how to correctly do it herself. He’s a good brother like that.

But he’s never done anything like this with Mac. Sure, he helps Mac select wardrobes on date nights. And there was a time a few years ago when Mac broke his arm that Dennis was in charge of styling his hair for six weeks. But this is different. This is… personal. Just touching Mac’s hands makes his insides tingle just a tiny bit. Maybe they’ve held hands before. Maybe. But this is new and off-kilter for them, and Dennis almost smiles but holds himself back because he doesn’t want Mac to freak out. He doesn’t want Mac to think this is weird.

Chances are, he already thinks it is. Mac’s weird as shit about stuff like this.

Dennis finishes up, bandaging Mac’s scraped knuckle and putting his stuff in the office. His head buzzes, and he wants a hamburger, but that’s way too many calories and fats, and the thought of grease dripping down his through is enough to make him queasy. But what Dennis wants more than anything else is in this very room, occupying the same air and looking sulky as shit.

“Everything okay?” Dennis asks quietly as he pops open two beers, one for him and one for Mac.

“Just pissed at Charlie,” Mac mumbles.

“Anything I can do to help?”

Mac frowns and glares at him like he’s lost his Goddamn mind. “What’s up with you? Why’re you being so nice?”

“I can be nice,” Dennis reasons. “I’m nice all the time.”

“Uh huh. Sure. Whatever.”

Dennis exhales and heads back over to the pool table to reclaim his spot. He keeps using Mac’s coat as a pillow and keeps staring at Jackie Denardo’s breasts. Time blurs and passes idly around him, and, sure, yeah, maybe he’s higher than he realizes. He can’t stop fucking smiling like some four year old kid who just got a new toy for Christmas. 

“Scoot over, Den.”

Dennis’ grin widens when Mac lies down beside him. The pool table can hold their weight. They’ve done this before.

Mac grabs Dennis’ hand. It’s soft and smooth. Dennis blushes a little.

Or a lot.

“You owe me another joint,” Mac says softly. It gives Dennis goosebumps.

Dennis nods. “Sure thing, dude.”


	2. Two

Dennis doesn’t do well in the cold. Especially in January.

(January can suck his dick.)

Mac keeps the heat blasting in the apartment from November to March, even though he sweats his balls off more often than not. It becomes miserably hot and almost unbearable for him, but it doesn’t do much for Dennis. The dude’s constantly freezing, and the space heater Mac bought him eight years ago is dusty and barely works, and Mac has to rub Dennis’ arms and legs and stomach and back to help him soak in some warmth.

Without Mac there, he’s sure Dennis would turn into ice.

“Is that thing working?” Dennis asks one snowy, frosty night in early January. His teeth chatter as he trembles beneath the thick flannel comforter Mac breaks out a week before Halloween each year. It’s navy blue and green and flatters Dennis’ eyes in the most beautiful of ways. Of course, though, Mac would never tell Dennis this because Dennis is cranky and crabby and complainy on the best of days. “I don’t think it’s working.”

Mac is sitting crisscross applesauce on the hardwood floor of Dennis’ bedroom, fiddling with the space heater. Motherfucker. Of course the thing has to shit out when there’s practically a Goddamn blizzard outside. They couldn’t make it in to the bar today. The Rover is somewhere beneath an inch of freezing rain and three inches of snow. Dee is enjoying her day off, drinking and binge watching some girly chick shit on Netflix. Charlie and Frank are playing a 24 hour version of Nightcrawlers, whatever the fuck that means.

And Mac and Dennis? Well, they’re stuck here in an apartment that is never warm enough for Dennis, and now the space heater is busted.

“I didn’t go to school for this,” Mac says. “This thing is all weird and old as shit.”

Dennis whines. “Mac, I’m freezing. Please fix it. Please.”

It’s fucking strange to hear Dennis actually ask Mac for help. Mac doubts Dennis realizes all that he does for him; Mac keeps the dude alive just by making sure he eats something throughout the day. But usually that comes with sass and stupid remarks about how Mac can fall off the face of the planet or some shit. Dennis is always too dramatic. But this is an actual cry for help because, for once, Dennis is aware enough he can’t do anything to make himself more better. It’s a huge accomplishment for him.

But, still, that doesn’t change the fact that Mac really did not go to school for space heater repair. It doesn’t change the fact that Mac has no fucking idea what’s wrong with this thing, other than it’s extremely old and probably just worn out from so much use.

(Mac has come home before on 75 degree days to find Dennis curled up on the couch with the space heater pointed toward him.)

“Dude, I’m gonna be honest here...” he says softly, bracing himself for rage or spit or a shoe flying in his face. “I think this thing’s toast.”

Like he said, he’s, like, expecting swearing or arguing or some shit, but Dennis just groans and pulls the comforter over his head.

He wishes he could make Dennis eat more. That’s what this whole problem is from. Dennis gets cold so easily because he’s anemic and needs lots more vitamins. Mac has great vitamins and wishes he could give some to his roommate, but he also isn’t a scientist, so he doubts that would work out. But, then again, he doesn’t know enough about vitamins to dispute it. But Dennis has always barely eaten anything. It’s been this way since he first met the dude when they were sixteen.

Dennis used to smoke weed a lot with Mac and Charlie, but he’d never give in to the munchies like Mac and Charlie did.

(That used to blow Mac’s mind. Dennis was so cool.)

But now Dennis, like, needs the munchies or something, and he definitely isn’t cool.

“How about some soup?” Mac asks, still sitting on the floor. “That could warm you up.”

“Ew,” Dennis grumbles, head hidden.

Mac rolls his eyes. “We don’t have anymore blankets left in the apartment, bro.”

“I know,” Dennis whispers. “I have them all in here.”

Mac gets to his feet, wiping his palms on his sweatpants. “Alright, dude. Scoot over.”

“Fuck you. This is my side of the bed, and you know it.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole, Den,” Mac says, but there’s no anger or annoyance behind it. Mac just climbs in on the other side, and he nearly shits a brick when Dennis immediately rolls over, hiding his face in Mac’s neck. “Your nose is cold.”

“All of me is cold...”

He sounds fucking pathetic. Mac burrows his head under the covers too, trapping in all the warmth and heat he can. It’s hot as shit, and he’s already starting to sweat, but Dennis’ shivers are powerful. There’s so many of them coming so quickly that it nearly makes Mac’s head spin. He wraps an arm around Dennis’ skinny shoulders, bringing the dude so close that practically each part of them is touching.

“This isn’t working...” Dennis whispers, voice shaking. “Can you... Can you take your shirt off?”

Mac sits straight up, letting the covers fall off of him and pool around at his waist. “What? No, dude.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, shithead. Skin to skin contact is supposed to help.”

“Help with what?”

“This!” Dennis exclaims. “Mac, I’m freezing. Please help me out here.”

And there it is again. Dennis asked for help twice in one day.

Mac shucks off his t-shirt in lightning speed and gets back under the comforter.

“What about you?” Mac asks because no fucking way is he gonna be the only shirtless one here. Dennis is still wearing a soft, thick hoodie.

Without a single complaint, Dennis removes the hoodie, a sweatshirt, and a long sleeved shirt. He practically attacks Mac, wrapping himself around him and clinging on tightly. It’s like the dude’s dying or something. But Mac doesn’t want that because Dennis’ nips are hard, and so are his, and this is... this is everything to him right now.

Dennis’ shivers die down after a while. His breath is minty against Mac’s cheek.

“Thanks, Mac...” Dennis whispers.

Mac smiles. It isn’t often Dennis Reynolds thanks anybody, especially him.

“No problem, dude.”

“Could... Could you stay here for a while longer?” Dennis questions, sounding almost... shy? Scared? “I’m still kinda cold.”

(Liar.)

Mac nods. “I’m not going anywhere, Den.”


	3. Three

He’s been on edge all day.

Mac hears the tense punctuation riding every syllable, unspoken or otherwise. Dennis hasn’t been talking or ranting or manipulating or making fun of Charlie for wearing that stupid whale hat or calling Dee a bird, even though she’s wearing an obnoxious yellow sweater; Mac’s been ready to pounce all day, but he always waits for Dennis’ cue before spewing insults. But Dennis remains quiet, curled up on the pool table beneath Mac’s leather jacket and using Dee’s fluffy coat as a pillow. Some cartoon is playing on the TV, but Mac doubts he’s paying attention to that. He’s been weird since he rolled out of bed this morning, slamming coffee, staring at nothing, and not complaining about jackshit. 

Which is, like, weird. Dennis always complains. It’s a trademark of his personality.

Dennis flinches when Dee barrels out of the back office with ‘big news,’ but he makes no attempt to move. Charlie and Frank flock to her like the followers they are, but Mac’s his own man, and he goes over to the pool table instead. Dennis glances at him lazily before returning his attention to the TV, eyes glassy and red.

“Scoot,” Mac says, nudging Dennis’ shoulder with his fingers.

Dennis does so wordlessly. They’ve done this before, so he knows nothing bad will happen, but it kinda already feels like something bad is happening because Dennis is just being so quiet and calm and passive and not at all like himself. Dennis tucks his face into Mac’s back as soon as Mac lies down, and that’s when Mac frowns, a bit of relief washing over him like a tidal wave.

“You’re burning up, Den,” he whispers.

Dennis shrugs, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he shivers and tucks himself even closer to Mac, and Mac tries to lose his mind at the touchiness. Dennis never does anything remotely like this in public willingly. Mac kicks himself internally because he should’ve figured out that Dennis is sick, but the signs until now just pointed toward a breakdown. It’s almost a good thing. Dennis is scary when he rages. Mac would much rather deal with him being under the weather instead. Dennis is softer and way less likely to explode this way.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

Dennis quivers again. “Head hurts…”

He sounds stuffed up. Probably a sore throat too.

“Aw, I’m sorry, bro,” Mac replies, letting Dennis’ heat soak into his skin. “Let’s go home for the night.”

“No. ‘m fine.”

Mac huffs. “You’re sick, dude. You’ll feel better once you’re in your jammies.” He pokes Dennis playfully.

“Not five…” Dennis murmurs.

“Dude, do I gotta carry you outta here?” Mac asks. “Because I totally will. I have super strength, Den, and you know that. I could punt you through that wall if I wanted to.”

“Shut up,” he whispers, coughing as he groggily sits up. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and hunches in on himself. “I really don’t feel good.”

Mac wants to card his fingers through Dennis’ hair, to wrap him in a warm blanket and cuddle him close, to kiss the fever away, but he settles on getting Dennis upright instead. He wavers and trembles, sweat pooling on the collar of his sweater even though it’s December, and his teeth can’t stop chattering. Mac drapes his leather jacket over Dennis’ shoulders. Dennis crosses his arms and heads toward the door, stumbling like he’s drunk despite only having two beers.

Dee shrieks and screeches like the actual flightless bird she is. Mac just flips her the bird and heads to the Range Rover with Dennis in tow. He buckles the dude up, and Dennis grumbles in the cold, crackling air. Mac cranks the heat as high as it’ll go, shooting worried looks as violent, wet coughs wrack his entire body. 

Fuck.

Mac turns the 15 minute car ride into 25, but Dennis doesn’t seem to mind, or at least he doesn’t say so with actual words. They don’t have shit for meds at the apartment, just some Tylenol PM and Dennis’ prescriptions, so Mac stocks up on the necessities, along with tissues, cough drops, ice cream, and Gatorade because electrolytes. Mac puts the Rover in park outside their building, and Dennis lumbers out, staggering and going granny speed up the stairs. Mac’s super fast at everything he does because he’s awesome, and usually Dennis can keep up with him, but not tonight. Mac guides him the rest of the way by gently holding on to his elbow.

Dennis immediately goes to his room, flopping down on the mattress and wrapping the quilt at the foot of his bed around himself. He hacks and splutters into the pillows.

“Uh uh, dude,” Mac says as he walks in, already armed with NyQuil, a glass of ice water, and the box of tissues. “PJs, medicine, and then you can wallow the rest of the night.”

Dennis rolls his eyes. “Not wallowing…”

“Yeah, you so are,” Mac acknowledges. Dennis looks like he wants to punch his face in, but, luckily for Mac, the dude’s out of commission.

Plus, Mac can totally kick his ass anyway.

Dennis wriggles out of his sweater and jeans, slowly putting on the lightweight long sleeved shirt and pajama pants Mac hands him. Dennis likes to be warm, especially while he’s sleeping, but he’s got a bad fever, so Mac has to counteract that with less restricting, more breathable clothes because Dennis will kick him in the balls or scratch him silly if he takes away any of the blankets. They’ve been down this road many times before in the last 20 years.

Mac gets Dennis to swallow the NyQuil once Mac promises to go fuck himself once this is over.

“Alright, bro,” Mac says quietly as he sits on the edge of the mattress. Dennis has already dug into the tissues, holding a wad beneath his left nostril, and he looks pretty miserable in the faint light. “Rest up, okay? I’ll be in the living room. Call out if you need me, or just text if your throat hurts too bad.”

Dennis nods. He pulls the blankets up to his chin, eyes closing and ragged breathing already evening out.

Mac clicks the door closed, plops down on the couch, and turns on the Charlie Brown Christmas Special.

Obviously, he drifts off because it’s been a long day, and he’s rightfully tired, but he doesn’t really expect to wake up on the couch with a sick Dennis staring at him, comforter wrapped around his shoulders. He looks like a burrito.

“Hey, dude,” Mac says softly. “You okay?”

Dennis coughs wetly. Wordlessly, much like he’s been all day, he drops down beside Mac, curling up in a shaking ball on Mac’s lap. Mac holds his breath and runs his fingers through Dennis’ sweaty, heated curls. Dennis mumbles incoherently and relaxes against the touch.

“Good?” Mac asks.

Dennis nods, the back of his head moving against Mac’s stomach.

“Go back to sleep, Den. I’ve got you. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he whispers.

Dennis snores in response. Mac pretends it doesn’t make him melt.


	4. Four

Dennis can’t pour drinks quickly enough.

It’s Saint Patrick’s Day, Paddy’s busiest night of the year. Customers are vomiting green shit on the floor and drinking idiotic fucking green beer courtesy of Charlie. The clusters of people make it hard for him to breathe. Even from behind the bar, he still feels like everyone is entirely too close. He doesn’t like these kinds of crowds. If the spotlight were going to be pointed somewhere, it should be on Dennis instead of the… Shit, is that Green Man?

Charlie’s wearing Green Man again.

Fuck him. He isn’t sure tonight will ever end.

He’s been working his ass off over here while Dee tells jokes that never land and Charlie drinks straight paint and wears costumes and Frank plays Russian roulette with the customers with an actual fucking gun. But that shit’s normal. Dee’s a bitch, Charlie’s an idiot, and Frank is as unreliable and untrustworthy as he was when Dennis was just a kid. But Mac?

Dennis can count on Mac.

Or at least that’s what he previously thought.

Dennis’ hand shakes as he refills this fat thing’s mug with festive beer. The hose is starting to clog, but he doesn’t care. What he cares about is that Mac, wearing a super great fitting t-shirt Dennis picked out for him this morning, is chatting up some beefcake near one of the booths, as if he doesn’t have a job to do. As if Dennis isn’t watching. As if Mac’s completely fucking oblivious to everything and everyone around him.

He clenches his jaw and forms a fist. He bites the inside of his cheek until it bleeds.

The beefcake is tall, taller than both Mac and Dennis, with veiny muscular arms. He’s got a tank top on that shows off his pecks perfectly in this light, but he paired fucking jeans and flip flops with it. Douche. The beefcake keeps touching Mac, placing his hands on his hip or shoulder.

And it’s driving Dennis absolutely fucking insane.

“C’mon, asshole!” a dude shouts. “I’ve been waiting five minutes for a refill!”

Dennis blinks, cheeks reddening and heart flooding with anger.

He may or may not throw beer in the dude’s face.

It doesn’t make him feel any better, not even when the dude grabs Dennis by his festive green and grey flannel and pulls him over the counter. He slams his fist into Dennis’ cheek so hard it knocks the thoughts from Dennis’ brain. At some point, he must fall to the floor; there’s something sharp poking his back, and, fuck, he wouldn’t hold it past this place to have dirty needles lurking around.

“Den,” he hears. “Den, dude, hey, are you okay?”

He blinks and tries to sit up, but someone keeps him pinned down. An electric bolt of panic surges up his spine. His pulse thumps loudly in his ears. The world is underwater, and he’s in space, floating throughout the vast darkness.

Dennis goes to move again, but then there’s a soothing hand rubbing his chest, a voice calmly telling him that it’s okay, he’s alright, everything’s fine. He lets the voice guide him back down to earth. He knows that voice anywhere. Mac. It’s Mac.

“Wow, he really gave it to you, huh?” Dennis hears Dee ask.

Fucking bitch. 

“Shut up, bird. Go get me some ice,” Mac says. “Dennis, bro, open your eyes.”

Dennis shakes his head. It’s too bright in here.

“C’mon, man. For me?”

Dennis rolls his eyes the second they’re open. “Happy now?” he croaks.

“Yeah, I love seeing you get knocked the fuck out, Den. Highlight of my night.”

“I’m sure the highlight of your night is talkin’ up that beefcake over there.”

“Beefcake?” Mac questions.

Jesus Christ.

He sighs loudly, wincing as pain jolts through his cheek and head. “That beefcake with flip-flops and great pecks.”

There’s a sudden shift in temperature as Mac places a baggy of ice on Dennis’ cheek. Dennis holds it as Mac sits him up. Dennis leans against the bar; Mac scoots until their shoulders touch. They’ve never been great with personal space, but it’s been strange and weird and delightful and scary ever since Mac officially came out. He’s happy Mac’s happy, but it’s different.

“Jealous much?”

“Pssh. Me? Jealous? C’mon, Mac. Look at me. I can get all the puss I want.”

Mac chuckles. “Uh huh. Sure, bro.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I get tons of puss, dude. Tons.”

He watches Mac shrug out of the corner of his eye, and Dennis almost scratches him across the face for questioning him. “You haven’t really gone out much. You usually just stay at Dee’s and watch TV,” Mac says. “And now you’re getting jealous when I talk to dudes who aren’t you.”

“I’m not jealous,” Dennis says through gritted teeth.

So what if he is partying as much anymore? So what if he hasn’t gotten laid in almost a month? So what if he likes waiting until Mac gets to Dee’s before falling asleep, curled wordlessly into Mac’s back as if he belongs there? 

“Dude, what’s going on with you?” Mac asks quietly. “You’ve been more weird ever since I, y’know, came out.”

Fucking fuck.

His skin crawls. Sweat beads on his forehead. The hairs on his neck stand straight up. He wants to bolt from this situation so badly that it’s slowly taking over him. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. He just sits here stewing in his own mess. He just sits here and doesn’t say anything when Mac wraps his arm around his shoulders.

Dennis isn’t sure whether he wants to run or hide or embrace Mac.

“Can we go home now?” Dennis questions. “Please?”

Mac nods, rubbing Dennis’ left shoulder soothingly before helping him to his feet. It doesn’t matter that neither of their shifts are over. It never has. The rest of the gang yells at them to come back, but Mac keeps guiding Dennis to the Rover, safely buckling him in and clicking the door shut as silently as possible. Mac’s too good for Dennis. He absolutely knows this.

And it fucking hurts.

He won’t stand for it. He won’t.

Dennis leans over, grabbing Mac’s leather jacket with one hand and tilting Mac’s chin with the other. He brings Mac’s lips to his and closes his eyes. Mac hums into Dennis’ mouth, and Dennis can feel his chest bouncing around inside his body crazily. This... It’s... perfect.

Mac pulls away. Dennis almost shrinks into his seat.

“Shit, dude,” Mac breathes out. “Fuck... That was... It was...”

“Perfect?” Dennis offers. “No shit. I’m the real deal, baby boy.”


	5. Five

“Dennis…” Mac whispers. “Dennis…”

But, of fucking course, Dennis is actually out like a light, sleeping soundly for the first time in weeks.

He shouldn’t even try to wake him, but this is an emergency. A straight up, absolute nightmare of an emergency.

Mac huffs. “C’mon, Den…”

He roughly shakes Dennis’ boney shoulder, and the dude rolls over, facing the other wall. Dennis squirms and buries his head beneath Mac’s pillow. He looks so cute all bundled up and tucked away from the world, but good things come to an end sometimes, Mac guesses. Mac rolls his eyes, stands up on the bed, and starts to jump like a toddler or some shit.

“What?” Dennis whines, finally opening his baby blues and looking at Mac. His curly hair is flat on one side and sticking straight up on the other. It looks fantastic. He tugs at the comforter until it covers his nose. Mac keeps jumping to help Dennis stay alert.

“I’m sorry for waking you, Den, but we have a major emergency here,” Mac announces.

Dennis’ eyebrows furrowed. He doesn’t seem impressed, but he bites anyway. “What’s the emergency?”

“We’re out of coffee.”

Dennis squishes his face into Mac’s pillow again. “I’m going back to sleep.”

Mac jumps some more, followed by plopping down to his knees, grabbing Dennis’ right arm and pulling at it. He flicks Dennis’ ear and pokes his cheek. It’s not Mac’s fault they’re out of coffee; Dennis drank the last cup some time yesterday afternoon before they went to work. Mac knows because he saw it with his own two eyes, and his bodyguard, highly trained eyes are never wrong, especially when it comes to ocular patdowns.

Dennis has been a huge coffee drinker since they were in high school. Mac’s sure it was the only way his then best friend and now boyfriend could function. Of course, he’d usually spike it with vodka or something like that, but Dennis drinks coffee of all kinds. They always have low fat French vanilla creamer in the fridge, and Dennis buys flavors like Gingerbread and Pumpkin Spice during the holidays. He grinds his own beans and more than enjoys sharing his sophisticated palate with Mac.

Mac used to hate coffee and couldn’t understand how a sixteen year old dude could love it so much. But Mac and Dennis share everything from clothes to colds to coffee. It’s just the way things have always been. So, as Dennis became more and more of a coffee enthusiast, Mac’s tolerance grew higher. Now, he drinks at least two cups every morning. Unlike Dennis, he can drink it black but prefers not to, but it’s hard to drink coffee when there’s no actual coffee in the apartment.

Which, as previously stated, is Dennis’ fault. Hence forth, it is Dennis’ responsibility to fix Mac’s problem.

“Let’s go to the store,” Mac says quietly.

(Okay, so maybe he relaxed a little and is now spooned up behind Dennis.)

Dennis groans. “It’s like eight in the morning, Mac…”

“It’s one PM, dude!” Mac exclaims.

“Oh…” Dennis says. “That’s still too early to go anywhere.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s snowing, it’s gross, and it’s cold. We can live without coffee for one day.”

Mac grins and kinda wants to slap Dennis at the same time. “Are you shitting me? You, the Connoisseur of Coffee, are saying that coffee isn’t important anymore?”

Dennis lets out a long sigh. “I didn’t say that. I just said that maybe we can skip it today. We’ll drink soda or something instead.”

“We don’t have any of that either!“

“When the fuck is the last time we went grocery shopping?” Dennis asks, now sitting straight up in bed, back resting against the headboard. “I thought we went last week.”

Mac nods. “You went last week when I was sick, ‘member? But you only bought flu stuff and that really warm and fuzzy blanket.”

“Fuck…” Dennis moans, scrubbing his hands over his stubbly cheeks.

(Mac really loves it when Dennis has stubble; it tickles and feels amazing.)

“I need coffee, Den. You did this to me,” Mac points out.

Dennis scoffs. “Yeah, well, coffee is delicious.”

“So let’s go out and get some!” Mac says happily, getting out of bed and heading to their shared closet. “We don’t even have to get dressed for real.” He tosses Dennis’ coat and his own leather jacket on the mattress. Dennis stands too, stretching out like a grumpy cat and scratching his head. He slides his socked feet into an old pair of Nikes.

Dennis brushes his teeth while Mac makes a list of things they need.

“You said we were just going out to get coffee!” Dennis exclaims once he makes his way into the living room. “This list is a mile long!”

Mac shrugs. “We might as well go grocery shopping.”

“No way. I’m wearing sweats, Mac.”

“So? You look great in sweats?”

“Quit trying to flatter me. I feel gross.”

“You’re always gross,” Mac says teasingly.

Dennis grins just a little, enough to make Mac’s heart skip a few beats. “Asshole.”

“We’ll be in and out. I promise.”

“Uh huh,” Dennis says as he tugs a hat over his messy hair and wraps a plaid scarf around his neck. “You’re slow as shit at everything.”

“Don’t confuse me with you, bro.”

They bicker and banter all the way to the Range Rover. Dennis hops in the driver’s seat. The second Mac’s bulked in and shivering because it’s the middle of fucking January, Dennis’ soft pink lips touch his. He hums into Dennis’ warm mouth. It’s moments like these where everything in the entire universe makes sense to Mac. Dennis is his greater understanding.

“Wanna go through Starbucks first?” Dennis questions quietly when he pulls away.

Mac gives him a quick peck. “Can I get a cinnamon dolce latte?”

“You can get whatever you want, baby boy.”


End file.
